


Clark Kent, Resident Alien, Superhero, Psychopath

by majortom



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majortom/pseuds/majortom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark often wondered if he was insane. Well, who could blame him? His parents told him he was an alien, and he had all these weird powers -- for all he knew he could have had some horrible experience and was now suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Living in a fantasy world. Most likely he got whammed in the head during the meteor shower. (Clark/Lex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clark often wondered if he was insane. Well, who could blame him? His parents told him he was an alien, and he had all these weird powers - for all he knew he could have had some horrible experience and was now suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Living in a fantasy world. Most likely he got whammed in the head during the meteor shower.

Not to mention all these new feelings he was having. These crazy, ridiculous, silly... Clark got out his thesaurus. Bizarre, ludicrous, preposterous, sappy, nonsensical - wait, sappy? Clark struck that from his mind. His feelings certainly weren't sappy. They were distinctly not sappy. What the hell was that word doing in there, anyway? Clark pouted. There wasn't a sappy bone in his body. There was, however, a completely different bone, which was the cause of his whole dilemma.

That's right. Clark Kent was getting spontaneous erections.

Though, he supposed, they weren't all that spontaneous. And it wasn't as though he wasn't used to getting erections; he had been in love with Lana for years, and she always walked around in _that way._ But at least when it had been Lana, it hadn't been confusing. It had been normal. Expected, even. In fact, now that he looked back on it, his Lana-inspired erections seemed more like priapism than actual sexual arousal.

But perhaps that was because he now knew what real, powerful sexual arousal felt like.

"Hey, Clark," said a smooth voice. Clark started, in more ways than one. He often wondered, when he wasn't wondering if he was insane, how Lex's voice could be rich and cool at the same time. Like... some deep, cold thing. The ocean? Clark wasn't very good with metaphors.

Lex raised an eyebrow. Seductively. Or not. It was then that Clark realized Lex was talking to him.

"Oh, hey, Lex. Didn't see you there," he said evenly.

"You invited me," Lex reminded him.

"Oh, yes. Right. Invited. You. Um. Just wanted to say that I think it's, you know, silly."

"Silly?"

"Yes, silly. Ridiculous, bizarre, ludicrous, sap-"

"Yes, I know what the word means, Clark. It's just that I don't know what you're referring to." He took a step closer and lowered his voice. "What's silly?"

Clark swallowed. Lex had a glint in his eye that threatened to break the buttons of his pants. "We- us."

A ghost of a grin flitted across the other man's features so quickly that if Clark wasn't super-perceptive he wouldn't have seen it. "We're silly, Clark?" he asked quietly, moving closer yet. "Why are we silly?"

Clark coughed nervously. "Well, it's just that we... we're friends. And we shouldn't... fight. If we're friends."

Lex's eyes searched his face. "Friends?"

Clark grinned, glad he had gotten through. "Friends." He held out his hand.

Lex hesitated before accepting it. "Right. ...friends."

Clark couldn't help but think Lex looked strangely disappointed as he left the Kent residence, long black jacket swirling behind him. Not that Clark noticed the way Lex's clothes moved on his body. Well, not much.

Clark sighed. If he was insane, there was really nothing he could do about it. So, he decided, he might as well have some fun with it.

 

It had been nine days since Clark's impromptu apology, and he had been over at Lex's mansion every single day. For hours. Making the most of their friendship, apparently. It wasn't as though Lex didn't like having the guy as his friend again, or that he didn't want him around; it was just kind of awkward after so much time practically estranged. Though if Clark noticed the uneasiness, he paid it no mind.

"Do you have anything besides classical music?" he asked from the leather sofa as he shuffled through Lex's CDs.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with classical music," Lex said, affronted, looking up from his laptop.

"Not saying there is, but after a while it all sounds the same, doesn't it? Not saying it's a bad sound-"

"It most certainly does not," Lex stated in a tone that brooked no more argument.

But Clark paid his tone the same amount of attention he paid everything else lately. Namely, not much. "What, violins, cellos, that other instrument with the strings... you can't tell me each one is still completely different after hearing ten songs with them."

"What about your music, Clark?" he asked. "All it is is guitars. I'd think they would all sound the same after hearing two."

"That's completely different," Clark declared. Lex smirked. "No, really, it is. My kind has... singing."

"Ah, Clark. When will you learn that the purest music sings loudest of all?"

Clark grumbled something about taking meaningless epigrams and shoving them where the sun didn't shine, then seeing who sang the loudest. Lex snorted. The next few moments passed in silence.

"Lex? I thought you had work to do," Clark said when Lex stood, stretched, and started walking towards him.

"It can wait. Besides, I wasn't getting much done anyway. _Something_ kept distracting me," he drawled and flopped down next to Clark on the sofa. Clark hid a smile. Lex was so uptight most of the time, and while his polished, dark look was quite attractive, it was good to see him flop once in a while.

"Oops," Clark said unapologetically.

"Oh, yes, I can sense how much you care," Lex laughed.

"Well, you work too much anyway," Clark said reasonably, and shifted imperceptibly towards Lex.

"Oh, stop pouting. I haven't done any work at all in the last week. And you're on my hand."

"I am not pouting," Clark complained. He wiggled a bit, seeming to move, but actual distance was not acquired.

Lex smiled. It might have been a bit condescending, but it was incredibly sexy, and Clark knew he didn't really mean it. "Of course not, sugar."

Clark tore his eyes away from Lex's mouth. It was hard. "Did you just call me _sugar?_ "

Lex raised an eyebrow and asked coolly, "Do you have a problem with that?"

Clark suddenly had the feeling that they were talking about something much more important and much more dangerous than silly epithets. But then, Clark often got strange feelings like that. He just attributed it to his insanity.

"No. Not particularly."

If Clark didn't know better, he would have said Lex's smile this time was small and shy. But he did know better, so it wasn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark gets a phone call from someone he almost didn't not expect, and comes out to almost but not everybody.

Clark was just re-arranging his media collection -he'd decided to combine books, movies (both VHS and DVD), video games, and music discs into one big category and sort it reverse-alphabetically ("That way _Hellboy_ will be right next to the _Hellboy_ soundtrack and _Hellboy_ , the game!") - when his mother knocked on the door.

"Clark? The-"

"Wait!" Clark yelled. "I'm not decent!" Quickly, he ripped of his tee shirt, messed up his impeccably-made bed, and took off one sock. Then he opened the door a crack and peered out, trying to insert sleepiness into his eyes. "Yes?"

"Telephone," Martha said simply, handing it to him and walking away. Damn. All that for nothing. He looked at the phone for a second, wondering who it could be. There were so many possibilities. It could be Lex. It also could be Chloe or Lana. If Clark thought about it, it was just a telephone. It didn't have to be restricted to people he talked to every day. It could be Pete, his old best friend! It could be the Sheriff, or Bill Clinton. Or Hilary Clinton. Clark shuddered. He hoped it wasn't; she was scary and at least Bill was sort of attractive.

"Um, Hils?" Clark said timidly. "This isn't really a good time -"

"Clark, it's me," said Lex's voice. "Who the hell is Hils? Don't you have caller ID?"

Clark was elated when he realized who it wasn't. He took a moment to calm down. "Yes, I _have caller ID._ Sheesh, just because I live in Kansas doesn't mean I'm completely technology challenged."

"I didn't mean to imply you were, Clark." Lex seemed unfazed. Clark decided that in the future, he would have to try harder. "I was just wondering what was up. It's two o'clock and you haven't been over to the mansion yet. I thought something might have happened."

"Well, I must have just forgot. You know me," Clark laughed.

"Yes, I do. You don't normally forget things."

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence.

"Well..." said Clark.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence.

"Do you... do you want me to come over now?" he asked. It took great force of effort to make his voice sound so standoffish. There really was nothing more he'd like to do than go over to Lex's house. Of course, he couldn't let _Lex_ know that.

"Well, I mean, if you're busy, I know I've got some work to do -"

"Yeah, 'cause I was kind of in the middle of something -"

"Oh, yeah, I understand, it's not, no, I completely..." Lex trailed off, as though he had expected Clark to interrupt by now, and now that he hadn't Lex didn't know what to say.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence.

"Well..." said Clark.

"Yeah. Talk to you later," Lex said, and hung up.

Clark grinned. He'd sounded fazed that time.

He was _so_ glad it hadn't been Hilary.

 

"So... what exactly are you trying to tell us, Clark? That you..." Martha floundered, "are a homosexual?" Jonathan just stared.

"Well I'm not really _homosexual,_ right? I mean, I can't be," Clark explained. " _Homo_ is a Latin adjective that means 'same'. I'm not even human, right? So any relationship I have would _technically_ be _hetero_ sexual. I think the inter-species barrier would be more important than the gender barrier."

Martha looked over to her husband. "He's got a point." After a moment, Jonathan sighed and nodded resignedly.

"That he does, Martha, that he does." He looked at Clark with a pained expression. "But did it have to be Lex?"

 

"What are you trying to tell me, Clark?" Lana asked quietly.

"You know, that's so weird. That's exactly what my parents-"

"Are you telling me, after all the time you spent chasing me and telling me you cared for me, that you're gay?" Lana looked utterly astounded. If Clark had his thesaurus, he might've called her flabbergasted.

"Now, Lana, just because I'm sexually attracted to men doesn't mean I don't care about you," Clark protested.

Lana scoffed. "No, just not in all the ways that matter."

Clark sighed. He should have seen this coming. Lana tended to overreact to, well, everything. "Lana, I'll always love you, just not in the way where I want to take off all your clothes and lick every inch of your body from the top of your bald head to the bottom of your toes," he said reasonably.

"Clark, what am I supposed to do now?" she asked.

Clark could tell this wasn't the sort of question he was supposed to answer. "... get a new love interest?" he suggested.

"Shut up, Clark. You know, it's not that easy to get a guy to follow you around like a puppy. I mean there was you, and Whitney, and Jason, and Lex, but that's not-"

"Lex," Clark interrupted, "does not follow you around like a puppy."

"Oh, Clark," Lana said patronizingly. "You just don't know what it's like to be a girl like, well, me. Guys like me. They just do."

Clark tried to glare. He failed, and just looked like he was pouting. Which he kind of was. "I thought you said it was hard to get guys to like you."

"Clark, you just don't understand," Lana declared.

"Right. I'm going to go 'not understand' at Chloe's house," he said, and beat a hasty retreat.

 

"Clark, are you trying to tell me you like to have hot sex with men?"

Clark stared at her. "Why does everyone say that?" he asked, sitting down on an overstuffed chair and looking up at the ceiling as though it had answers. "I'm not trying to tell you anything, I'm telling you! Why doesn't anyone believe me? Do they think I'm lying? That what I was really trying to say was, "I like corn flakes," and I'm just so bad with words I accidentally said, "I'm gay"? Don't people think that I could be gay?"

Chloe sat down next to Clark and put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "Clark. It's obvious."

He looked over hopefully. "Is it?"

"Absolutely. I've known for years."

Clark sighed. "That's a load of my mind." He looked over at Chloe shyly. "Does... does this mean we can have sleepovers and eat chocolate and watch romantic comedies and cry?"

They both burst out laughing. At least there was one other person as crazy as Clark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threats, Threads, and Automobiles

  
"Mister Luthor? You have a call on line two," the intercom said.

"Who is it?" he responded sharply. He knew he shouldn't be so testy, it wasn't Bethany's fault that someone was calling at eleven o'clock, after all.

"Um, he says he's a family friend," said the voice.

Lionel frowned. A family friend? He didn't have many of those. He almost asked his secretary to demand the caller's name, but then decided he wouldn't want to offend whoever it was. If they really were a "family friend", it was probably a rocky relationship.

"Alright. Put it through," he said. He picked up the phone. "Lionel Luthor speaking."

There was no response from the other side except for abnormally heavy breathing.

"Hello?"

"Luthor?"

"Yes, this is Lionel Luthor speaking," he said with a sigh. "And who is this?"

"That is none of your concern, Luthor-"

"Excuse me, but I don't take kindly to threats. Goodbye," he made to hang up the phone. Another crack-pot looking to blackmail him. He always told them to take him off the call list, but did they ever listen?

"I wouldn't advise that, Mister Luthor," the mystery voice said. "It's about your son."

Lionel hesitated. He knew he should just hang up.

He lifted the receiver back up to his ear. "What about my son?"

 

"Wow, Lex, this is great!" Clark exclaimed.

Lex smiled. "I thought you might like getting out of Smallville for a while."

"Well, it's great. The food is fantastic, and the band is great." Clark wished he had his thesaurus so he could look up 'great', he was definitely saying it too much. "This restaurant is just so... swanky!"

Lex covered his laugh by coughing into his napkin. "Yeah, it sure is swanky."

Clark sighed happily. "I'm glad we're friends again."

Clark heard Lex's breath hitch in his throat. "Yeah," he said. "Me, too."

It was lucky it was dark in the restaurant. In full sunlight, Clark's smile would have been blinding.

Clark was stuffed. He couldn't eat any more if he tried. What was it about expensive food that filled you up so quickly?

"Well see, they take the extra money and grind it up into the food..." Lex said. Clark laughed, startled. He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud.

The waitress came back and gave Lex his card and receipt. Clark wanted to ask how much it had been, but he figured it would be bad manners. They stood and walked out to the coat check. Clark was having such a good time. He didn't want the night to end.

"It's hard to believe that after all this," he waved his hand vaguely to his left, apparently meaning the lavishness of the restaurant, "I'm going home to my barn-house in Smallville," he said, trying to inject regret into his voice.

Lex handed Clark his jacked before taking his from the check girl. "Well," Lex said slowly, "we don't have to go back so soon."

"Oh?" said Clark. "Where would we go?"

"Well," Lex said again. "There's this club I used to go to when I lived in Metropolis." He grinned rakishly. "You've never been to a club, have you, Clark?"

 

Here in _Satan's Palace,_ Clark was very out of his element. There were girls wearing so little it seemed like they used Scotch tape to stick small pieces of fabric to them. There was lots of black leather and ripped fishnets, and everyone was wearing copious amounts of eye liner. He was very aware of his red plaid shirt and jeans.

"It's... so loud!" Clark shouted over the pounding music.

"What?" Lex yelled back. Clark was jealous. At least with his black trench coat Lex fit in.

"I said, it's so-"

"Let's dance!" Lex reached for Clark's hand.

"What? No!" Clark said.

Lex looked disappointed. "Why not?"

"I..." Clark started. "I just-"

"What?"

Clark rolled his eyes. He pulled Lex over to the bathroom. There were two people making out next to the door. Clark started when he saw they were both girls. He blushed, and was glad it was too dark for anyone to see. He pulled Lex into the bathroom where it was quieter.

"What is it, Clark?" Lex asked.

"I..." he cursed his cheeks as he felt them heating up more. But there was nothing he could do about it. Defeated, he gestured to his clothing. "I don't... fit in," he said lamely.

"Oh, well, if that's all," Lex said. "Take off your shirt."

"My-my shirt?" he stuttered.

"Yes. Take it off."

Clark started to slowly unbutton his shirt. He glanced up at Lex, and saw that he had a small smirk on his face. Of course; he saw his blush and thought he was naïve.

Clark just hoped Lex didn't make him take off his pants.

That thought made him cough violently.

"For Christ's sake - here, I'll do it," Lex said impatiently.

"Er," Clark said.

Lex's fingers made quick work of the buttons. All Clark could do was watch. He desperately wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't having a psychotic delusion, but he didn't want Lex to think he was some crazy person who randomly pinched himself. Instead, he just leaned against the sink and stared downward.

The door swung open, and a guy walked in. He was wearing tight leather pants and a shirt with so many holes Clark felt it shouldn't count as a shirt. It was obvious from his stumbling and the smell of alcohol that he was drunk.

"Excuse me, we're a little busy here," Lex snapped.

The guy pulled his eyes from the floor and onto them. "S'alright," the guy slurred with a lecherous grin. "I don't mind."

"Yes, well, I do," Lex said, turning to face him with a dangerous look on his face.

The man raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll let'cho two get wit' yur business, then," he said and started for the door.

"Wait," Lex said. "Do you have any eye liner?"

"What will you give me for it?" the man asked. Lex started to pull out his wallet. "Oh, no. I don't want yur money." The man grinned. Lex raised an eyebrow. The man's grin faded. "Fine, then. I'll have... his shirt."

Clark could only look on helplessly as Lex pocketed the black pencil and handed over Clark's own shirt. Of course, he wasn't really _helpless,_ but all the strength in the world wouldn't help if he couldn't make himself use it.

"I'll get you a new shirt," Lex said, and suddenly he was on his knees in front of him. "What are you doing?" Clark said in a voice he hoped didn't sound as strangled as he felt.

In answer, Lex looked up at him and grinned, and then took a folding knife from his pocket. Before Clark could respond, Lex took the knife and started slashing holes into his pants. Clark didn't even care, as long as Lex didn't notice-

"Why, Clark. I didn't realize you enjoyed make-overs so much," Lex said, voice dripping with unnecessary innuendo.

"Er," Clark said, but luckily Lex wasn't expecting much of a response. He simply stood and cupped Clark's face with one hand. For a second, Clark thought Lex was going to kiss him.

"Open your eyes," Lex instructed. With a pang of disappointment, Clark remembered the eye-liner.

When Lex was done, he stood back and surveyed his work. Finding it satisfactory, he checked his watch. "That has to be the fastest make-over I've ever given. Three minutes is a new record."

Clark turned to look at himself in the mirror. It was bizarre. He looked, if not like everyone else, at least similar enough to not draw attention. "How many make-overs have you given?"

"Enough," he said simply. "Will you dance now?"

"Er," Clark said again. He really wished he could stop saying that, but it just came out.

Lex sighed. "What now?"

"I... can't dance," Clark admitted to the floor.

"Oh, well, if that's all," Lex said. "It's not that hard. And besides, if you make a fool of yourself just remember that you'll never see any of these people again."  
With that, he pulled Clark back to the dance floor.

 

Clark tip-toed through the house to the kitchen sink. As he washed the make-up from his face, memories of the club flooded his mind. He didn't know people danced like that. So many people so close together and then with the touching - he was sure those times he felt a hand on his ass were not all accidental. He dried his face with a hand towel, then frowned. There were black mascara marks all over it. Too tired to do anything about it (his mother would just think it was grease from a tractor motor, anyway) he folded it so the marks were inside and started up the stairs.

He walked very softly. He wasn't technically home late - his parents hadn't set a specific curfew - but it was still four in the morning and he didn't want them to see him coming home with no shirt and ripped pants. Unfortunately, they did.

"Clark?"

He looked up slowly. "Yeah Mom?" he asked.

"What happened to your pants?" she asked, shocked.

He stared at her for a full seven seconds trying to think of an excuse before saying, "They ripped."

"Yes, I see that. What happened?" She sounded worried now.

"It's nothing, Mom, really," he said reassuringly.

"Was someone in trouble? Did you have to use your powers?" she asked.

"... yeah. But don't worry, no one saw me," he said.

Suddenly his father was behind him on the stairs. "Somebody did."

"... they did?"

He held up the dirty rag. Clark swallowed. "Yes, they did."

 

"Clark, I know you're trying to explore your new side, but that doesn't mean you can stay out until four in the morning at strange clubs," his mother said reasonably.

Clark hung his head.

"What your mother means to say is what the hell were you thinking, going out to some druggie dance and wearing eye-liner and ripping up your clothes? And with Lex?" he demanded.

"Jonathan," Martha said. "We're not trying to make him feel bad, we're trying to help him," she said gently.

"I don't really want to talk about it now, okay?" Clark said.

"Alright," said his mother. "You don't have to. But you're still grounded for two weeks."

"Mom!"

"Don't you 'Mom' me, mister. Now go to your room."

Clark trudged up the stairs. Well, he guessed it was alright that he was grounded. He wasn't _really_ grounded after all; it was just a figment of his imagination.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark is a Superhero. He should be rewarded. But not by Janice Marchfield.

Imagining being grounded, Clark decided, was just as boring as actually being grounded. He laid on his back and stared at the water spot on his ceiling. He was just about to decide if it looked more like a mongoose or a marmoset (which was rather difficult as he didn't know what a marmoset looked like) when his super-hearing detected a faint scream. Without a second thought he leaped from his bed dramatically and whizzed away towards the noise.

The scream was coming from in the woods on the edge of town. Clark slowed down to a mere break-neck speed in order to avoid the trees. When he reached the area, he stopped and surveyed the scene.

It was nothing too bad. It seemed as though a hiker had been trapped under a falling tree. Unlikely, but then again Clark's whole life was unlikely and he paid it no mind.

Clark's feet made crunching noises on the leaves, and the panicked screams were replaced with: "Hello? Is anyone there? Help me, please!"

"It's alright, miss," Clark said soothingly. He knelt down next to her. "I'm here to help. What's your name?"

"Janice," came the reply. "Oh, thank God," the woman tried to say, but it devolved into a fit of coughing.

"Don't try to talk," he cautioned. Now, how to get the tree off without her realizing what was happening. He could lift it easily enough, but no normal person could move that tree by himself and Janice's condition wasn't life-threatening enough yet that he could disregard secrecy. But unless he hurried, it would be.

After a second, he thought he might be able to get away with shifting it a little bit. She was probably in too much pain to realize what was going on, and if she remembered the amazing feat later, she would most likely attribute it to an over-stressed imagination.

And if she didn't, she couldn't prove anything anyway. But still he didn't feel very comfortable with it.

"Janice? Can you close your eyes for me?" Clark asked finally.

"Why?" she asked, voice still rough.

"Shh. Don't talk. Just close your eyes, please." Luckily, she did, and Clark slowly lifted the tree and moved it just far enough to free the woman.

As he looked down on Janice he was surprised at the amount of blood. She needed to get to a hospital, and fast. He considered picking her up and running her there, but he didn't want to move her and he didn't know how super-speed would affect her already injured body. It was times like this when he really wished he had a cell phone.

"Alright, Janice, I'm going to have to go get help-"

"No, don't leave," she pleaded.

Clark looked around desperately, as though the surrounding woodland would show him what to do. His eyes fell upon a torn black waist-pack. It must belong to Janice, he thought. Quickly, he moved to it and looked through it. A music player, a pack of cigarettes (odd for a hiker, he thought), some gum, and yes! A phone.  
He dialed 9-1-1.

 

"No, it's alright," Clark said, but he was smiling.

"Nonsense," declared Janice. "You saved my life and I must at least try to repay you."

Clark shuffled his shoes. Secretly, he thought he did deserve a little something for saving her and waiting for her until she was out of surgery and then sitting by her bedside for a few more hours until she was well again. She was still a little weak, and had a cane to help her walk, but the doctors said the injuries hadn't been as bad as they had been bloody and she was able to leave.

That isn't to say Clark would be upset if he didn't get a reward, but it was nice sometimes to have the good deeds you did be recognized. So he amiably agreed, offered her his arm, and led her to the payphone where she called her driver.

And who came around the corner but Lex Luthor. It sure was a small world, or at least a small town.

"Hey, Lex," he said.

"Clark. I was here checking on an employee and I happened to hear you saved another life," he said. There seemed to be a hint of jealousy in his voice, but of course that was just Clark’s imagination.

"Yeah, well, I do what I can." Clark put his hands in his pocket and looked at the ground. He looked adorably like a small child, proud yet embarrassed. "So, what happened to your employee? Will he be alright? Or she, I guess," he amended himself.

"Oh, he'll be fine," Lex said airily. "Just an accident on the floor. You know how it is." His brow furrowed. "I didn't see your parents around. I'm surprised they didn't accompany you on your life-saving, what with being grounded and all," he said with a hint of sarcasm.

"I called them, and they, er, understand," Clark said, nodding. Lex was about to say something, but broke off when Janice shuffled over.

"Jeffrey, will be here in about ten minutes, and then we'll have some fun," she said to Clark. She looked over at Lex, then back. "Introduce me to your friend, Clark." She smiled widely.

She had so many big, white teeth Clark was momentarily stunned. "Oh, this is Lex. Uh, Luthor. And, Lex, this is Janice Marchfield."

"Ah, the damsel in distress." Lex's mouth quirked upward in what Clark supposed could be called a smile, but really wasn't much of one. Janice seemed not to notice, however, and giggled when Lex kissed the back of her hand. Clark, understandably, did not giggle.

"Yes, well, we have to get going," Clark said. He met the other man's eyes for a second before looking away.

"Yes, you're right, of course," said Janice. "Nice to meet you, Lex."

 

When Janice said she was calling her driver, Clark had realized she had money. He wasn't dumb. But he didn't realize that when she said 'driver' what she really meant was 'limo driver'.

After the shock of the limousine, most of the night was pleasantly low-key. They stopped at the Talon for some take-out and took it out by the lake. She had the limo driver back the car into the boat landing (no, not actually in the water) so they could sit in the car and look out at the water. Clark ignored the feeling that this was more like a date activity than a Hey, Thanks For Saving My Life activity.

At least until she put her hand on his thigh and started kissing him. He couldn't ignore it much after that.

He pushed her gently away. "Janice..."

Janice smiled and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Oh, Clark. You're so modest."

"No, that's not what I-"

There was a brief struggle in which Janice attempted to straddle Clark's legs and Clark attempted to not be straddled without hurting her.

"Jan-don't-you'll pull your stitches-excuse me-hey!" Clark's voice shot up a few octaves, "Don't _do_ that!"

Janice silenced him with her mouth, and for a second Clark considered giving in. He kind of wanted to. He was sure it would feel really good, even if she wasn't his first choice in the matter.

But even if he was completely insane and none of this mattered, he still had to be able to live with himself tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex knows everything. But that's to be expected - Lex probably knows people who shoot heroin into their eyeballs.

The doors to Lex's study burst open. Lex wondered idly if anyone came through those doors without throwing them open dramatically. He knew he was guilty of that as well, though, and assumed it was something about the quality of the doors, or that people were usually angry when they came into his study.

He looked up finally to see who it was. He thought it would be Clark. He wasn't exactly sure why he thought it would be Clark. If Lex had been able to read his emotions a little better he would have realized that he just hoped it would be Clark. But he wasn't, and it wasn't Clark anyway.

"The prodigal father returns," Lex said blandly.

Lionel gave him a thin smile. "Let us abandon our usual repartee and get right to the point, Lex."

Lex shut his laptop and stood up. "Of course."

"I've heard some rumors," Lionel said carefully. He dropped his jacket on the back of an armchair and walked slowly to stand in front of Lex's desk.

"You of all people should know not to believe everything you hear."

Lionel chuckled. "That's very true, Lex. This information, however, was obtained from a very reliable inside source. Even so, I thought I would confirm it with you."

"What could possibly be so scandalous that you felt the need to come all the way down to Smallville?" Lex asked.

Lionel took a deep breath in an almost-passable impersonation of delicacy. "Well, there's no use to beat around the issue. I'll just come out and say it."

When he didn't continue, Lex raised an eyebrow and said, "I'm waiting."

Lionel looked Lex straight in the eye. Even after all these years, it was still disconcerting, and Lex fought to keep his face emotionless. "Son, are you gay?"

Inside, he was screaming. Outside, he managed to contain himself to a slow breath through his nose. "Why, father. I didn't know you cared."

"Well, of course I care, Lex," he said. He took steps around the desk to stand near his son. "This could be the scandal of the year. Imagine how the company, how I would look if my only son was a homosexual."

Lex scoffed. "Of course. You're here to do damage control. Your company, your image. Why would I have thought you were here for me?"

Lionel rolled his eyes. "Come on, Lex, you know how the business world is-"

"I'm not gay, Dad," Lex said loudly, and with no small amount of bitterness. "Your reputation is safe."

"Lex. Don't think I don't care for you," he began, but Lex cut him off.

"Oh, don't worry, Dad. I don't think that. I know it," he spat.

"Lex," he said again, "I have no opinion on your personal life. If you and that Kent boy are indeed-"

"What are you talking about?"

Lionel sighed. "I'm telling you that it makes no difference to me what you do behind closed doors," he said, "as long as that is where they stay."

There was a quiet knocking. Lex and Lionel whipped around towards the source of the noise. Not surprisingly, it was Clark. He had a knack for showing up at both the best and worst times.

Lionel's eyes darted between the two others. "I see you have some company, so I will take my leave. Think about what I said, Lex," he added. He grabbed his jacket and started to walk out. "Clark," he said by way of greeting to the confused-looking boy, then exited the room.

Lex sighed and sat back down in his desk chair.

"What was that all about?" Clark asked.

Lex looked up at him and smiled humorlessly. "He thinks I'm gay," he said without preamble.

Clark's eyes grew wide with surprise. "G-gay? Why... why would he think that?"

"Not only does he think I'm gay, he thinks you and I are in a relationship," he continued.

Clark coughed loudly. "A... relationship?"

Lex looked at him strangely. Clark didn't blame him; his voice had cracked on that last syllable.

"Yes..." he said cautiously, lest Clark have a panic attack. Which, from his heavy breathing and voice troubles, didn't seem too far-fetched. "Isn't that crazy?"

"Yeah... crazy..." Clark licked his lips nervously. Lex rested his chin against his hand and watched him. He was really quite amusing when flustered. "Why... why would he think that, d'you think?"

Lex smirked a bit, but suppressed it quickly. "I really don't know. He said he had a source in Smallville that tipped him off."

An awkward silence descended upon the room.

Clark fidgeted.

Lex was about to ask if there was any particular reason Clark came over, but suddenly Clark said, "Is... is he upset?" Lex stared at him. "I mean, would he be upset? If you were, you know. Gay."

Lex got up with a sigh and sat down heavily next to Clark on the couch. "It isn't that he would be upset that I was _gay,_ in particular. He would be upset at anything I did to darken the family name. Not that it can get any blacker," he muttered. Clark nodded in that way people nod when they don't know what to say. "Why do you ask?"

Immediately Clark was abashed. "Oh, just, wondering."

The grandfather clock ticked loudly: six, seven, eight times. "Although I can see why someone would think we were together," Lex said thoughtfully.

"What?" Clark started.

"Well," Lex continued lightly. "Recently you've been at the mansion almost constantly. We go out together a lot. Word is you turned down that Marchfield woman when she tried to have it off with you in her limo."

Clark stared incredulously. "How do people know that?" he asked.

Lex just shrugged. Clark supposed that when you were a Luthor you got used to knowing everything all the time. "So is it true?"

"What?"

"That you turned down that Marchfield woman when she tried to have it-"

Clark made furious gestures that were supposed to signify 'stop'. Really it was a bunch of frantic hand movements, but it got the message across.

"Yes, it's true, alright?" Clark hissed.

Lex stared at him disbelievingly. "Are you insane? She was hot."

Clark frowned. Eventually he said, "She wasn't that hot."

"Come, now, Clark. Dark hair, dark eyes, good figure. She was very attractive."

Clark disagreed.

Lex shook his head bemusedly. "Just goes to show Clark Kent has no taste."

"I think I have good taste," he said quietly to his hands. When he looked up, Lex was staring at him with a strange look on his face.

"Really?" he asked. Clark shrugged noncommittally. "What kind of taste do you have, Clark?"

Clark could feel himself starting to blush. He's just a figment of your imagination, he reminded himself. It doesn't matter if you embarrass yourself in front of a figment of your own imagination. "Well..." he said.

"Come on, Clark. I'm dying to know about your perfect woman."

Damn, but did he have to have that undeniable undertone in his voice? Clark silently cursed. "Well, I suppose that, erm, she would be, you know..." he trailed off awkwardly.

Lex's eyes were dancing with repressed amusement, begging him to go on. Oh, well, what the hell, thought Clark. "She would be accepting. Loyal, I guess, but not completely devoted, 'cause that would be creepy. She would be opinionated. Confident but not egotistical. Laid-back. Would like to spend time at home. Wouldn't need fancy stuff all the time, but he would still like to go out. He would be funny and witty and smart. Um, tall, thin. But not too thin. Pretty eyes. Smooth skin. Um... that's about it I guess."

Clark looked back up. The look Lex was giving him would have made him sigh if it hadn't made his heart jump into his throat first. Really, though, it was tiring the way that Lex would look at him strangely and Clark would never have any idea why he was doing it. He decided to go straight to the issue.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

Lex didn't answer right away. Finally he said, "I hope you find that person, Clark."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark writes lists, but it's completely pointless so he decides to bring the story to an end.

Clark hadn't wondered if he was insane in at least three weeks. When he realized this, he immediately began to wonder if he was insane twice as hard to make up for lost time.

"Clark, do you want some dinner?" his mother called up the stairs.

"No, thanks, Mom. I'm being insane right now," he answered distractedly.

"... alright then," she replied. Clark could hear his father asking, 'What did he say?'

Three weeks was a long time. Clark decided that he would have to do more than just extra wondering to make up the time. He would have to make a list. Crazy people always had lists, right?

After about two and three quarters minutes, he looked over his list.

_-blue_   
_-mathematics_   
_-Pledge wood cleaner_   
_-buttons_   
_-wooden cat alarm clocks_   
_-Soviet Russia_   
_-candles_   
_-sparkles_   
_-candle holders_   
_-tablecloths_   
_-school_   
_-those socks that have the different color toes and heels_   
_-party balloons_   
_-rugby_   
_-things that used to be shiny, were now sort of dull, but could easily be shined again_   
_-the war of 1812_

Clark knew as soon as he read the list it was useless. He hadn't set any boundaries, and while free thinking was fine for hippies, it wasn't good for lists. He crumpled up the paper and started to make a new list, this time of only things that made him feel crazy.

_-being an alien_   
_-mathematics_   
_-powers that come from said alien-ness_   
_-Chloe's mom_   
_-Japan_   
_-kryptonite_   
_-the wall of weird_   
_-really big sunglasses  
_ _-those socks that have the different color toes and heels_   
_-when Lana gets all possessed by that witch-lady who likes to wear black leather_

  
Turning it over, he made a list of things that didn't make him feel crazy.

_-going out to fancy restaurants_   
_-eating dinner at home_   
_-eating dinner at Lex's house_   
_-food in general_   
_-reading books_   
_-reading books at Lex's house_   
_-stars_   
_-looking at stars with Lex at Lex's house_

Clark decided lists were pointless and crumpled it up and threw it away. What else did crazy people do? They wrote poems, didn't they? So Clark spent the next twenty minutes trying to write a poem. His garbage can overflowed with little paper balls. Finally, he discarded 'Ode to a Toad' with a sigh and put down his pencil. Poems were as stupid as lists. He settled on staring blankly at the wall.

Unlike lists and poems, Clark was very good at staring. For one thing, it never got boring. He could look at the wall, sure. But he could use his x-ray vision to look through the wall and see all sorts of things that were on at the other side. Clark could sit in his room and see what was going on all the way to the house on the other side of the street. And in this way he was entertained for about a minute. Nothing was really happening at the house on the other side of the street. He tried other methods, like seeing what was going on slightly to the left of the house on the other side of the street (nothing) and switching back and forth between normal vision and x-ray vision really really fast to find out if he could see both at the same time. It made his eyes hurt.

And that's when he realized everything.

 

"Hey, Clark," Lex said. "What's up?" He shut his laptop and walked over to the flushed, slightly out of breath boy. His brows furrowed. "Did you... _run_ here?"

"Yeah."

"All the way out here."

"Yup."

"You ran."

"I think I love you."

Lex's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Like a fish. Clark decided to not point that out.

Soon it became clear that Lex was not going to say or do anything but open and close his mouth soundlessly. Clark wondered worriedly if he had broken him. "Lex, are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm... surprised," Lex said blankly.

"Really? You weren't that surprised when your father thought we were in a relationship," Clark said. "You even said you could understand where he was coming from."

"That was when it wasn't true," Lex pointed out. Clark bit his lip. He had begun to regret his decision. It had all seemed so clear in his bedroom, what with the eye-switching and pain being a metaphor for him juggling with insanity. But then, Clark had never been very good with metaphors. "So, what do you suggest we do about it?"

Clark's ears perked up. There were three very good words in that question; suggest, we, and do. Obviously, Lex was open to suggestions. He would obviously consider said suggestions and do one of them. And they would do it together, obviously.

When Clark didn't answer, Lex raised an eyebrow. Seductively. Or not. It was then that Clark kissed him.

And maybe Clark was a little crazy. But really, when it all came down to it, what was so wrong with that?


End file.
